


Drowning in Imperfection

by Eien_Ni



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Past Relationship(s), Strangers to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: The past could always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or forgetfulness could do that. But the future was inevitable. - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian GrayQui-Gon Jinn survives Naboo and takes Anakin Skywalker as his new Padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi moves on.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this incredibly late for several reasons, but better late than never, right? There will be mentions of panic attacks/anxiety throughout this story, and since I experience those myself, I draw on my own experiences to help me write, so just take care of yourself while you read. Title is taken from the song Imperfection by Skillet.
> 
> The prologue takes place right after The Phantom Menace.

>   
The fallout after we ended is what demolished me. - Unknown  


The door hissed shut, effectively cutting off the sounds from Jedi conversing as they traveled the hallway to their destinations. The common room was quiet. No one was there aside from Obi-Wan. Not that there should have been anyone else there, because for the first time, Obi-Wan had quarters of his own like a proper knight. Even so, he was used to sharing rooms with Qui-Gon, and he knew it would be a few weeks before he stopped expecting someone else to be there. He reminded himself that this was normal now; even if he wasn’t somewhere in the Temple with his new Padawan, Qui-Gon wouldn’t have been here anyway.

Obi-Wan leaned against the door, glancing about the room as he took everything in. His right hand twitched upwards, reaching for a braid that was no longer there. He clenched his hand, anger and betrayal flooding through him - _again_ \- before he inhaled and exhaled slowly, allowing the emotions to flow into the Force. He would have to wait until later to truly examine how he felt. Right now, he set his mind to finding his few belongings a place in his quarters, despite having lived in them for a few weeks.

It took a few minutes before he actually moved, though, having been too absorbed in deflecting his emotions. Slowly, he made his way to his room and stood in the middle as he tried to figure out where to begin. Not that he had many possessions, since the Jedi Code forbade having them.

Most of his belongings were clothing, save for some bathroom necessities, so it wouldn’t take long to unpack and hopefully take his mind off of the unsettling thoughts clouding his mind. Grabbing a bag, he carefully began to hang his clothing in the simple closet, counting each item and taking care so they wouldn’t wrinkle. When his bag was empty, he frowned. He was short one cloak, having been too distracted while hurriedly packing to realize he was missing one. Obi-Wan sighed and closed his eyes upon realizing where it most likely was.

Qui-Gon’s room, in the quarters Obi-Wan used to share with him. Obi-Wan had left it there after the first time he had slept with Qui-Gon the night before they’d been sent to Naboo to negotiate with the Trade Federation during the blockade, and now it was likely that it would be the only time.

He flopped backwards onto the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. It had only been a short few months ago that he and Qui-Gon had begun a romantic relationship, despite hesitancy on both of their parts, and Obi-Wan had been looking forward to exploring that relationship for his remaining time as a Padawan.

Unfortunately, that time had been shorter than he’d thought. There wouldn’t even be the time to acclimate to not having their training bond. Obi-Wan was newly Knighted and entirely on his own. Despair crawled through him, clogging his throat and making it difficult to breathe. He was drowning in it, feelings of worthlessness and betrayal sweeping over him. Obi-Wan lurched upright and gasped for air. His hands clutched desperately at his throat, and tears sprang to his eyes.

Why had Qui-Gon tossed him aside? Hadn’t Qui-Gon initially refused to train Obi-Wan because the Master had thought Obi-Wan too dangerous? And now, he had taken Anakin as a Padawan even though everyone else proclaimed him to be a danger. Was it because Anakin was supposedly the Chosen One? Did that make the difference?

With a heavy groan, Obi-Wan sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and buried his face in his hands. Whatever the case, there was no way that he was going to be able to make himself go back to his former quarters to retrieve his cloak, not with all of the memories there. However, Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon would soon realize the cloak didn’t belong to him, and what if Qui-Gon brought it back? What should Obi-Wan do then? Try to play it off as though nothing had happened, or use the opportunity to talk to Qui-Gon to get some damn answers. A bitter laugh echoed in his empty room at the fleeting thought that perhaps Qui-Gon would give the cloak to Anakin, just like he’d given everything else that belonged to Obi-Wan to the boy. Obi-Wan laughed derisively until there were tears in his eyes and his stomach and sides hurt, eventually sobering as he realized that he was at a crossroads and needed to make a decision.

As much as it pained him, Obi-Wan knew that it would be better for himself in the long run if he cut off all contact with Qui-Gon. Not that it mattered since he’d seen his former master once in the two weeks they’d been back to Coruscant, and that one time was Obi-Wan’s knighting ceremony, just a few short moments earlier. Qui-Gon was simply too busy with his new padawan. It also didn’t help that Obi-Wan had immediately moved to his own quarters upon his return. It had been under the pretense of allowing Anakin the chance to settle in quickly, but in reality, Obi-Wan couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Qui-Gon any more than was necessary.

Betrayal and anger still simmered below the surface of Obi-Wan’s supposed calm, and he knew that Qui-Gon would be able to see right through him. As it was, Obi-Wan had heavily shielded himself after the battle with Maul on Theed when it became apparent that Qui-Gon was still determined to have Anakin as his padawan. But Obi-Wan had rarely shielded himself during his years as Qui-Gon’s padawan, and Qui-Gon had to have noticed the difference, yet he’d said nothing. Even when Obi-Wan had been trembling after his master had nearly been impaled by Maul, Qui-Gon had remained tight-lipped. Yes, Obi-Wan knew they were Jedi and sometimes risks were taken that led to death, but he’d never fought an opponent as strong and as skilled as the Sith, and having to stand and watch as Qui-Gon fought him _alone_ was torture. Just one word or a simple touch would have been enough to settle Obi-Wan’s nerves after the fight, but he’d been given nothing.

Qui-Gon didn’t care. Perhaps he’d never cared, and he’d only agreed to take Obi-Wan as a Padawan out of honor or duty since Obi-Wan had helped him on Bandomeer. And now Qui-Gon could train the Chosen One.

Oh, what an honor that must be, especially after training someone like Obi-Wan Kenobi. Qui-Gon apparently couldn’t get rid of Obi-Wan fast enough, as he’d not even been Knighted and Qui-Gon had already been thinking of his next Padawan.

Obi-Wan gave himself a quick shake. This train of thought was not doing him any favors. Slowly, he opened himself to the Force and let the emotions go, but the peace that should have come stayed away. All he was left with was a persistent ache and a hole where the bond used to be.


	2. Atelophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now eleven years after the prologue.

> Atelophobia: the fear of imperfection, of not being enough

Obi-Wan should have stayed in bed.

That was a much better alternative than where he was now, locked in combat on a desert planet that reminded him too much of Tatooine. He darted quickly behind a large rock, droid blaster shots zooming overhead. Panting heavily, he tried to regulate his breathing. He’d been fighting non-stop for what seemed like hours, drenched in sweat, ankle throbbing from when he’d twisted it earlier while attempting to dodge an unexpected barrage of blaster shots.

“General!” Cody yelled. “Behind you!”

Startled, Obi-Wan turned just in time to deflect a shot right back at the droid. “Thanks, Cody!”

There was no reply until Cody managed to close the distance, leaning down to peer at the Jedi’s face. “Are you all right, Sir? You don’t look very good.”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively, still fighting to keep his breathing even, then out of habit, tugged on his gloves to ensure that they were secure. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. And here I thought the battle-ravaged look was all the rage. How are the troops?” He could sense Cody’s concern, but the clone said nothing, knowing from past experiences that Obi-Wan would only brush aside any talk about himself or his injuries.

“We’ve lost twenty-four clones so far, and we’re stuck at this position. There are droids up above that we can’t get a clear shot at, droids in front of us, and more droids approaching from behind.”

“Fantastic news, as always, Cody.” Obi-Wan sighed and opened his comm link, but only static was there. “Blast, they must be running interference. We need backup.”

Cody nodded grimly as he took careful aim at a droid advancing on them. “You don’t need to tell me that, General.”

“I’ll do what I can from the front and try to reach the droids at the top of the cliff. If I can take them out, then we can advance forward and try to find where they’re blocking our communications from.” The Jedi shifted to his feet but remained crouched down. No sense in making himself a target quite yet.

“I’ll divide the men between watching our front and back.”

“Good.” Carefully, Obi-Wan peered over the stone, taking note of the ledges jutting from the left side of the cliff walls. He could make use of them to get to the top, take down those droids, then use the Force to propel himself to the right side, which had a far steeper climb. “Well, here goes everything.”

With that, he leaped over the rock, his ‘saber near constantly deflecting shots as he made his way to the first small ledge. There was just enough space for him to plant his left foot there and push off to the next foothold. Everything was going well until one of the footholds broke under his weight, and he fell a few feet before he was able to catch a crack in the rock with his left hand, barely managing to keep a grip on his ‘saber. Wincing in pain at the torn skin on his hand, Obi-Wan focused and used the Force to launch himself up to the top of the cliff.

From there, everything was a blur as Obi-Wan parried, deflected, slashed, and evaded. Once the left side was clear of droids, he jumped to the other side, his right ankle protesting as he landed and rolled almost immediately to avoid blaster shots. It seemed like hours passed before the last droid fell, but in reality it had likely only been fifteen minutes at most. Panting heavily, Obi-Wan turned to the edge of the cliff to wave Cody and the men through when a wave of darkness pervaded the area.

“No,” Obi-Wan breathed, and in the next second he yelled down to Cody, “Get out of here, now!” He whirled around, already on the defensive, to face Dooku. _Fantastic,_ he thought grimly. Dooku was a strong opponent when Obi-Wan was fully rested, so how much more trouble would Obi-Wan have when fighting against him now, when he was exhausted from battle already?

But there was no helping it. If he stepped aside, Dooku would slaughter everyone, and all of their progress would go up in flames. He would just have to hold Dooku off long enough for Cody to break the communication interference and radio for backup.

Hopefully there was someone close enough who would be able to take on Dooku.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Dooku said as he circled around, his red ‘saber already powered up. “I’d been wondering which Jedi I would have to face today.”

“I suppose it’s your unlucky day, Dooku.”

“Or my lucky day.” Dooku’s gaze flitted down to Obi-Wan’s ankle, which he’d subconsciously been favoring.

Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his ‘saber. He would have to be mindful now since Dooku would most likely try to attack from his weak side. “Worried you won’t be able to defeat me if I’m at full strength?”

The Sith merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re no match for me, Kenobi, or has Geonosis slipped your mind?” As if to prove his point, he rushed forward, and Obi-Wan was barely able to bring his ‘saber up in time to block.

Red and blue ‘sabers clashed again and again, the Jedi managing to hold his own. Sweat dripped down his face, and he blinked quickly to clear the gritty sand from his vision. Dooku, seeing his opportunity, took it and stepped forward on the offensive, Obi-Wan stumbling back to avoid the hit.

Obi-Wan was struck with a Force blast before he could retaliate, and he was pushed backwards, teetering on the edge of the cliff. His arms pinwheeled as he struggled to regain his balance, but another Force blast, and he was tumbling down, unable to catch himself.

He landed hard on his right side, a strangled gasp of pain escaping as he felt bones breaking. Blood bubbled from his lips when he coughed, and he was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to just lie back and sleep. But he couldn’t. His men were depending on him.

His vision blurred, he screamed, as he rolled onto his back. Using his left hand, he forced himself to a sitting position. Just a little more, he told himself, you need to stand. He hunched forward, left palm flat on the ground, and bent his left knee, leaning all his weight on his left limbs as he painstakingly raised himself up.

His right leg was useless; he was distantly aware that he might have shattered his pelvic bone, and hot white pain burned through him faster than he could release it to the Force. His ‘saber rested a few feet away, but his right arm hung limply, so he’d have to use his left arm to fight, which further put him at a disadvantage, even though he’d trained to fight with either hand.

A mere second before Obi-Wan could call his ‘saber to him, it moved towards Dooku, who caught it in his free hand. “You’d best surrender. You’re in no condition to keep fighting, especially when you have no weapon to defend yourself with.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was blood. Internal injuries, his mind helpfully supplied, and he spat out a mouthful of the red liquid. He grinned, thinking that he must look a sight with the entire right side of his body useless and blood smeared on his chin and teeth. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m afraid I can’t surrender,” he rasped, trying to stand straighter. Each movement sent daggers of pain through him, and his vision whited out several times, but he didn’t fall.

He couldn’t fall. He would fight to his last breath. He just hoped he had bought enough time for his men to retreat.

“Don’t be so foolish, Kenobi. You once again cannot use your right arm. Also, you are, quite literally, standing on your last leg,” Dooku said dryly, stepping closer.

Obi-Wan forced himself not to back up, not that he would have been able to move without falling over. “That may be true, but I would rather die fighting as a Jedi than die knowing I surrendered to a Sith like you.”

“So much wasted potential. What would your master say if he were here now? Oh,” Dooku said, drawing the sound out. “That’s right. He left you behind for a boy he’d just met. Such a pity that he didn’t appreciate your talent.”

The Jedi swallowed hard, then sputtered up blood, leaning over as he spat onto the ground. An ache settled in his chest, one that had nothing to do with the injuries he’d sustained. Qui-Gon. He fervently wished that he could talk to his former master one more time, to say that he was so thankful for everything that he had taught him, that he forgave him for abandoning him to train Anakin.

_Master, I didn’t give up. I kept fighting until I died,_ Obi-Wan thought, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them and slowly sliding into a defensive position, left arm outstretched, left leg bent slightly and ready to move.

With every heartbeat, every breath, Obi-Wan knew with complete certainty that Dooku’s next attack would end his life. He was under no delusion that he would survive. No one was coming to save him. He was alone, just as he’d always been.

He blinked past the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes and missed Dooku’s movement until the former Jedi was in front of him, red ‘saber swinging in an arc to cut him in half, and Obi-Wan had the ridiculous thought that just as he, a Jedi, had killed a Sith by slicing him in two, so would he die by a Sith’s hand the exact same way. Obi-Wan held out his hand, as though that would provide any protection, and closed his eyes.

The next thing Obi-Wan knew, he was in someone’s arms, flying through the air. He struggled, briefly, until his strength gave out, and he lay panting, pain and exhaustion taking its toll and making his limbs heavy. Gently, he was lowered to the ground, but his head rested on someone’s lap, lifting him just enough so he could breathe and not drown in his own blood - yet, at least.

“Master Kenobi?”

Relief surged through Obi-Wan, and a single tear dripped down his cheek, making a trail through the dirt and blood smudged on his skin. He blinked, squinted, to make out the face, his breath catching as he recognized who it was, someone he’d seen in passing in recent years, someone he’d avoided.

Anakin Skywalker.

Of fucking course, was Obi-Wan’s first thought, it had to be the Chosen One that saved him. A tiny part of Obi-Wan had hoped that, if someone were to save him, it would be Qui-Gon, just like in the ridiculous holo-vids where the damsel in distress was saved by her true love.

Anakin’s hair was slightly longer than it should be as a Padawan, the ends curling, and no braid hung from his head, but Obi-Wan remembered then that Anakin had been made a Knight shortly after the beginning of the Clone War. But if Anakin was here, did that mean…

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and a surge of strength gave him the power to lift himself onto his elbow to look across the gap to where Dooku and another presence stood. Even after so long, Obi-Wan knew those shoulders, the long hair, the protective stance.

“Qui-Gon,” he mumbled through the blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Qui-Gon turned slightly, ‘saber still pointed at Dooku, and offered Obi-Wan a relieved smile. “You did very well, Obi-Wan. Rest now. I shall take it from here.”

There was no Force suggestion behind the command, but it didn’t matter. Obi-Wan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the last thing he saw the worried blue eyes of one Anakin Skywalker and his lips shouting his name.


	3. Perfection

> If you look for perfection, you'll never be content. - Leo Tolstoy, _Anna Karenina_

The first thing Obi-Wan became aware of was the soft bed underneath him. The second thing was the low rumble of a voice a few feet away. His eyes flew open, breath catching in his throat, and he had the fleeting thought that he was alive before the voice paused. Obi-Wan heard hurried footsteps, and when he looked over, Qui-Gon was leaning over him, concern radiating through him.

“Obi-Wan, how do you feel?”

“Alive,” the younger Jedi murmured. He moved to rise to a sitting position, and immediately, familiar, large hands were there, easing him up and arranging the pillows to prop him up. A lump formed in Obi-Wan’s throat as fingers - calloused and rough from gripping a ‘saber and hard work - caressed his cheek for a second. Only one second, but it was enough to bring memories flashing back, and tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. 

“I thought,” he began, voice cracking, and dammit, he was thirty-six, he should not be this affected by a near death experience, “I was going to die.”

“Hush,” Qui-Gon soothed, large fingers - and Obi-Wan could feel them trembling, a testament to how this had also affected his former master - gently cupping his cheek. “You are safe now. We were able to stabilize you enough in the field to make it to Coruscant. You were in a bacta tank for three days, unconscious for two after that.”

“How did you know that we needed backup? I couldn’t contact anyone.”

“That is exactly why. The Council was trying to reach you to warn you that Dooku was there. When their attempts failed, they sent me and Anakin since we were the closest.” Qui-Gon locked gazes with Obi-Wan, the intensity in his eyes causing the younger Jedi’s breath to stutter. “I only regret,” he said solemnly as he took hold of Obi-Wan’s hand in both of his, “that I did not arrive sooner.”

“Master.” Obi-Wan searched for something to say, but his mind refused to work. For all of his linguistic prowess, he felt utterly unworthy of the title Negotiator at this moment. Slowly, cautiously, he raised a hand - and Force, was he relieved to discover that both of his hands were still gloved - fingertips brushing gently at his former master’s cheek. “There is no need to apologize, my master. You arrived exactly when I needed you.”

“I nearly lost you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon’s voice was soft, quiet, and Obi-Wan had to strain to hear it.

_Are you so certain that you haven’t lost me,_ the younger Jedi thought bitterly before closing his eyes and inhaling sharply. Blast, why was this so difficult? Why could he not get through one conversation without the anger and betrayal surfacing?

Because, a part of himself deep inside whispered, you haven’t let it go yet. You don’t want to let it go. You feel that your anger is justified.

And wasn’t that the most ironic thing? Earlier, when he’d been sure of his death by Dooku’s hand, he’d wanted nothing more than to tell Qui-Gon he was forgiven, and now he was taking it back, content to wallow in his anger and betrayal.

Neither spoke for a long moment. They remained there, staring at each other as though they were the only ones in the universe. Obi-Wan felt like he was on fire, the piercing eyes fixed on him burning, burning through his defenses. Distantly, he knew that he should stop this before something happened that he would later regret because Qui-Gon had left. He’d abandoned Obi-Wan the moment someone better had come along, and who was to say it wouldn’t happen again?

“Oh,” Qui-Gon sighed. “No, Obi-Wan. I never -”

But what he was about to say was cut off when the door opened, and Anakin stood framed in the doorway. Qui-Gon released Obi-Wan’s hand quickly and moved back. Obi-Wan’s other hand that had been cupping Qui-Gon’s face remained hovering in the air for a few seconds, shock and hurt and betrayal warring for first place in his mind, before his hand fell limply to the sheets.

Once again, Obi-Wan was being left behind for Anakin. Immediately, he slammed his shields in place, ignoring the sad look Qui-Gon sent his way. Qui-Gon had brought this on himself when he’d taken Anakin as his padawan.

“Oh, Master Kenobi, you’re awake!” Anakin’s grin was blinding as he walked to the other side of Obi-Wan’s bed. “You definitely look better than the last time I saw you. I was worried that you weren’t going to make it. You should have seen Master Qui-Gon. I’m surprised he didn’t wear a hole in the floor with all of his pacing.”

Obi-Wan blinked, entirely bewildered by Anakin’s friendly demeanor and blunt honesty. He hadn’t seen the boy, though he was a young man now, in close to eleven years. He and Anakin weren’t friends, not even acquaintances, which made Obi-Wan even more baffled as to why Anakin was relaying all of this, and looked to his former master for some clarity. Unfortunately, Qui-Gon’s face was its usual impassive mask of calm, so Obi-Wan had no way of knowing if Anakin had exaggerated.

Instead of asking and making things even more awkward, he ignored what Anakin had last said and simply replied, “I feel better, as well. Thank you for your assistance. I, too, did not expect myself to live much longer.”

Anakin grinned and squared his shoulders. “Master Qui-Gon fought Dooku off while I took care of your injuries. The ones I could, anyway. I’m amazed you were still able to stand when we found you.”

_You weren’t the only one,_ Obi-Wan thought wryly, allowing himself to sink back into the pillows. Suddenly, something occurred to him, and he shot straight to a sitting position, which caused him to lose his breath as stabs of pain erupted from his right side.

“Fuck, Obi-Wan!” Anakin cried as he scrambled to steady him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan noticed Qui-Gon’s outstretched hand, his fingers flexing before he drew it back to himself and folded his hands inside of the sleeves of his robe. That struck Obi-Wan as odd, but he didn’t dwell on it any further. There was a more pressing matter. “My men?” He gasped out, eyes wide.

Force, how could he have not asked that sooner? For all he knew, his entire battalion was wiped out, and he hadn’t even thought to ask about them when he’d woken up. What a pathetic general he was. Obi-Wan didn’t doubt that Anakin, the _Chosen One,_ would remember to ask about the welfare of his men.

“You need to be careful, Obi-Wan,” Anakin was saying when Obi-Wan’s mind cleared enough to focus on the conversation. “You were severely inju-”

“I’m fine!” Obi-Wan snapped as he wrenched away from Anakin’s touch. “Just, for the love of the Force, tell me how my men are!”

Fists clenched, he stared straight ahead, aware of the two other Jedi exchanging worried glances, and he could sense Qui-Gon’s disappointment, as well. Disappointment in what, though? That Obi-Wan had succumbed to anger for a brief moment, or that Obi-Wan had spectacularly failed his men?

Finally, Qui-Gon cleared his throat. “Your men are fine. Some of them were seriously injured, but their prognosis is that they will all make a full recovery.”

Obi-Wan sagged in relief, eyes closing as the tension seeped slowly from his body. “Thank the Force,” he breathed.

“Your men are tough, almost as tough as the 501st,” said Anakin jokingly, grinning widely.

Qui-Gon chuckled lightly and shook his head. “And they appear to have the same problem with their general as Anakin’s men.”

“I take calculated risks only when necessary,” Obi-Wan said, miffed that Qui-Gon would compare him to Anakin Skywalker. He’d heard horror stories about the young Knight, how he acted impulsively and often without thought to his own safety, how he preferred to strike first and ask questions later. Somehow, Anakin’s less than orthodox methods always came through in the end, granting him the victory, but Obi-Wan knew that his luck would run out eventually, unless it was his status as the Chosen One that allowed him to pull off the daring feats with minimum collateral damage.

“Like the time you were going to blow yourself up on Bandomeer so Master Qui-Gon could escape and save the planet?” Anakin laughed, and at first, Obi-Wan thought that Anakin was making fun of him, but realized that the younger Jedi was _teasing_ him. Again, this confused Obi-Wan to no end because _they weren’t friends,_ so what made Anakin think that they were close enough for teasing, unless it was simply because they both had the same Master.

And another question. How in the galaxy had Anakin learned about what had happened on Bandomeer? Had Qui-Gon told him? And if so, why? To warn Anakin not to act rashly like Obi-Wan (in which case Qui-Gon had failed extraordinarily), or because those were fond memories, or because Anakin had asked?

So many unanswered questions that were making his head spin, and he tried to sort through them in order to find the right one to ask as he glanced from Anakin to Qui-Gon and back again. Before he could even open his mouth, Anakin was up and talking once more.

“Master Qui-Gon and I had just finished a joint attack on a Separatist fleet, and next thing I know, he said we were headed to back you up, even though we -”

“We should let him rest, Anakin,” Qui-Gon interrupted before Anakin could say anything further, already moving towards the door. “He’s been through quite the ordeal these past few days, and he needs to regain his strength.”

“Oh, right.” Anakin’s shoulders drooped, but in the next moment, he seemed to brighten. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you around.” He gave one last smile before brushing past Qui-Gon, leaving Obi-Wan and his former master alone in the room.

_I certainly hope not,_ thought Obi-Wan guiltily as his gaze slipped over to Qui-Gon. Something stretched between them, unspoken, and Obi-Wan yearned to have that closeness that they’d had as Padawan and Master.

Qui-Gon hovered in the doorway, brow furrowed in an expression that Obi-Wan recognized as being deep in thought. At last, Qui-Gon looked over, the corner of his mouth tilted up, as he said quietly, “I am proud of you, Obi-Wan.” Then he was gone before Obi-Wan could even blink.

Obi-Wan slumped back against the pillows and huffed out a breath. Damn, but he had to meditate to think through everything that had happened.

Seeing Qui-Gon again had been bittersweet, and for the briefest moment, Obi-Wan could believe that everything was back to normal, that he and Qui-Gon were as close as they’d been previously. His brow furrowed as he recalled what his former Master had said - that he and Anakin had been sent because they were closest to Obi-Wan’s location. For a split second, Obi-Wan had allowed himself to hope that Qui-Gon had volunteered to go only to have that hope dashed in the very next breath.

It was clear to Obi-Wan now that the only one still clinging to any hope of reconciliation was himself. He couldn’t compete against Anakin. He’d known that from the beginning when Qui-Gon had said that he would train Anakin, the Chosen One.

And Anakin!

What had possessed Anakin to think that he and Obi-Wan were friends? Their last interaction had been when Obi-Wan had just been Knighted, and nine year old Anakin had congratulated him. Everything after that had been a polite nod in passing or a quick escape as Anakin called out to him.

Obi-Wan knew his behavior was unbecoming of a Jedi Knight, petty and childish, but he calmed his conscience by telling himself that it was better to ignore Anakin and Qui-Gon than to have either one of them realize his true feelings.

Whatever the case, it didn’t matter, Obi-Wan decided. Chances were high that he and Anakin and Qui-Gon would go back to ignoring each other now that he had woken up and was no longer in danger of dying.

Yes, Obi-Wan thought with great relief, that would be the last time he would see the Chosen One.


	4. Control

> At a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That’s the world’s greatest lie. - Paulo Coelho

By the end of his second day in the Healing Wing, Obi-Wan was going stir-crazy. He hated being stuck there, had since he was a Padawan, preferring to tend to his own wounds as was his habit during his years as an Initiate. It was uncomfortable to have someone fuss over him, and he always felt as though he’d somehow failed by being injured. Even out on the field after a battle with droids, he always managed to escape from the medics, which frustrated his men, and Cody especially, who liked to crossly tell Obi-Wan that the 212th was immune to the particular brand of crazy that Obi-Wan was and would not adjust well to having a normal Jedi be their general.

While Obi-Wan had been secretly pleased to discover just how much his men liked him, he still sneaked off whenever he was injured, though his men had become excellent at finding his hiding places.

He sighed, wishing he could get back to his men. He’d managed to charm a healer into allowing him to call Cody a few hours ago, just to check in with him. Not that Cody had said much, stating that Obi-Wan needed to rest and not have the stress of battles on his mind.

“As if I never have that on my mind at all times, anyway,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“Never have what on your mind?”

Startled, Obi-Wan glanced up to see Anakin hovering in the doorway. “Oh. Anakin, hello. I- I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Surreptitiously, he checked that the gloves were still on his hands.

“I thought you could use some company.” Anakin came over to the bedside and sat down on a chair. “I know it gets boring here, and I wasn’t sure if you would get many visitors.”

“Only you and Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan let slip before he could stop himself.

Anakin seemed to perk up at that, sitting up straighter and fixing an intense look on Obi-Wan. “Master Qui-Gon’s been here?”

“No, not since when I first woke up.” When he saw Anakin frown, he hastened to add, “I’m not expecting visitors, Anakin. I’m quite sure the war has kept everyone busy, and I’m not a Youngling or a Padawan.”

Frowning, Anakin crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t say you were either one of them. All I know is that time seems to pass by faster when you have someone distracting you.”

_Or much more slowly if you have unwanted company,_ Obi-Wan thought, barely managing to resist the urge to groan. Honestly, a Jedi Master - and hadn’t that been a surprise four months ago when he’d been made a Master without having had a Padawan - ought to have better rein over his emotions and thoughts than he currently did. Force, but he had to meditate. He’d been unable to fully meditate since waking up, too conflicted and subconsciously unwilling to parse through his feelings and make sense of them. He knew that once he was in his own quarters, he would be able to concentrate easier.

A sharp knock at the door startled the two of them, and both gazes swung over as Chief Healer Vokara Che spoke.

“Hello, Master Kenobi,” the Healer greeted him with a smile as she stepped into the room. “How are you feeling today?”

“Much better than a few days ago,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye. “In fact, I feel well enough to stay in my quarters.”

Healer Che simply raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how you handle injuries in the field, but right now, you’re here in the Temple under my care. How about I examine you first, and then you follow my recommendations?”

Obi-Wan, feeling like a chagrined Youngling, knew the tips of his ears were red, and he cleared his throat before flashing a smile towards the Healer. “Very well.”

Anakin was shooed from the room. He promised to come back in when they were finished, and Obi-Wan didn’t have the chance to tell Anakin that that wasn’t necessary. He was a full-grown Jedi. He didn’t need a babysitter or someone to keep him company. He preferred the solitude. If he was going to be stuck in the Temple away from the front lines, then he at least wanted peace and quiet, the opposite of one Anakin Skywalker.

The examination only took ten minutes, but it seemed to last a lifetime to Obi-Wan. He was just eager to get out of there.

Anakin must have been pressed against the door listening to their conversation because as soon as Healer Che was finished, the younger Jedi was immediately back in the room, standing by Obi-Wan’s side as though he belonged there. “How is he?” He asked before Obi-Wan could even open his mouth.

“Considering how a week ago, he was in a bacta tank, he’s doing very well.”

“_He_ is right here,” Obi-Wan muttered, annoyed by the fact that they were talking about him as though he weren’t present. “So I’m able to leave, then?”

“I didn’t say that. You’ll be here at least another day,” the Healer said gently.

Obi-Wan grimaced. All he wanted was the privacy of his rooms, away from Healers and a certain young Knight. “Are you certain I cannot go back to my quarters tonight?”

“I’m sorry, Master Kenobi. My orders stand. I wish to make sure that there are no complications. Your injuries were severe, and we nearly lost you several times.”

_“I nearly lost you, Obi-Wan.”_ Qui-Gon’s words from a few days ago surfaced in his memories, and he sucked in a breath. While he’d known at the time that his chances for survival were slim, he hadn’t fully dwelt on it. Had he really been that close to death so many times?

“What if someone stayed with him?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Anakin in near horror. Surely the younger Jedi didn’t mean to imply that he would be willing to stay with Obi-Wan. “No, that’s - I don’t need -”

“It’ll be fine,” Anakin cajoled. “I think Master Kenobi would benefit from sleeping in his own bed, and at the first sign of trouble, I can bring him here.”

And that was how Obi-Wan ended up being escorted to his quarters by one Anakin Skywalker. It was slow going, since there was still some discomfort from the right side of Obi-Wan’s body, but he hadn’t mentioned that to Healer Che. If he had, she never would have let him leave.

As it was, part of him was wishing that she hadn’t agreed because he would rather be anywhere else than here, walking back to his room with a rather enthusiastic Knight helping him. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with Anakin for an entire night. With that thought in mind, he tried to find a way to convince Anakin that he would be fine by himself.

“Anakin, there’s no need for you to stay with me. I’m feeling quite well, and I’m sure that you have more pressing matters to attend to other than wasting your time supervising me.”

Anakin looked vaguely horrified at the thought of leaving Obi-Wan alone, jerking to a halt, blue eyes wide. “No!” He cried out, then hastened to add, “It’s really no problem. There’s nothing I have to do, and I did promise that I would stay with you. I don’t want to risk you having a setback with no one around to help you.”

Obi-Wan sighed, having nothing more to say to dissuade the young Jedi from staying. He resigned himself to a long night and focused on centering himself.

“Besides,” Anakin whispered conspiratorially, and Obi-Wan nearly jumped when he glanced over and saw Anakin’s face mere inches from his own, “we were both Padawans of Master Qui-Gon. I bet we have lots of stories we can swap.”

_Oh, yes,_ thought Obi-Wan wryly, grinding his teeth, _shall I share the story of how I was tossed aside by the man I love for you, the Chosen One?_

Aloud, he said, “There’s not much to share. You were his Padawan, so you know what he’s like.”

“True, but don’t Masters have different teaching techniques for each of their Padawans? Everyone learns differently, after all.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan allowed, “but Qui-Gon has always tended to do what the Force tells him, no matter what anyone else tells him otherwise. That includes how he teaches his Padawans.”

Anakin hummed thoughtfully in reply, and for a moment, Obi-Wan feared that he would speak again, but the younger Jedi remained silent.

Upon reaching his quarters, Obi-Wan sighed in relief. While he’d maintained that he was fine, he had to admit that he was exhausted by the time he sank onto his couch.

“Are you okay?” Anakin asked as he hovered by the side of the couch.

“Yes, Anakin, I’m fine.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leaned his head back, focusing on relaxing each muscle. He would never admit it out loud, but he could use a nap, or maybe some meditation.

Then he heard movement and remembered that he wasn’t alone. Withholding a sigh, Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find Anakin peering at the few pictures he had on a shelf. He winced as he watched Anakin’s fingers dance over the frames, wanting to tell him to be careful, but noticed that Anakin was gentle, almost reverent.

“You don’t have many pictures,” Anakin observed.

“A Jedi has very few belongings,” Obi-Wan countered.

Ducking his head, Anakin glanced over from the corner of his eye with a sheepish smile. “Oops. You probably wouldn’t be able to tell I’m a Jedi from my room, then. I have tools and mechanical parts everywhere.”

“And droids everywhere in the Temple,” Obi-Wan pointed out, struggling to hold back a smirk as he recalled seeing droids of various shapes and sizes throughout the early years of Anakin’s apprenticeship.

Anakin made a face. “Yeah, I don’t tinker with droids anymore. For one thing, I don’t have enough time. For another, I see droids practically every day, and they’re always trying to kill me.”

“Well, that does put a damper on your relationship,” Obi-Wan murmured then cleared his throat. He was thirsty, and if he remembered correctly, he still had some Sapir tea left. Obi-Wan had shifted halfway off the couch before a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Anakin frowned down at him.

“The kitchen to make tea, or am I not allowed?” Obi-Wan asked dryly.

Anakin pressed down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, easing him back down to a sitting position. “Not allowed. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “And just how stressful can making tea be?”

“If you’re anything like Qui-Gon, and I think you are, then you won’t just make tea. You’ll find something else to do while the water is boiling then when the tea is steeping.”

Obi-Wan would have argued, but Anakin was not wrong. This was the first time he’d been back in his own quarters in several months, and he knew that there were things he could be doing - checking his messages, cleaning the rooms, comming Cody to see how the fight was going.

He relaxed back into the cushions with a disgruntled look on his face, letting Anakin know that he was displeased with the accurate assessment. The pleased grin on Anakin’s face sent a funny feeling swirling through him, but he ignored it, passing it off as a side effect of the medication he was on, and called out as Anakin turned to the kitchen, “Please, don’t break anything.”

Anakin’s laugh in reply washed over him, and Obi-Wan grumbled to himself as he settled himself more comfortably.

Obi-Wan must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, he felt someone leaning over him. He blinked owlishly, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn, and Anakin’s face seemed to relax.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Anakin whispered. “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You didn’t even stir when I accidentally slammed a cabinet door.”

“Oh, I suppose I was more tired than I thought.” He rubbed a hand over his face then accepted the cup that Anakin held out to him. “Thank you.” He inhaled the scent of the tea, a luxury he didn’t always have out on the front lines, and cautiously took a sip. It was hot, but from what he could tell, it was prepared the way he liked. “This is good,” he said in surprise.

Anakin, who had been sitting straight on another chair, sank into the cushions with a pleased smile. “I may have commed Qui-Gon to see if he knew how you liked your tea,” he admitted sheepishly.

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat. Qui-Gon still remembered how he took his tea? He looked down at his cup, willing the blush to stay away. For Force’s sake, he was acting like some besotted teenager with a crush. “Thank you, Anakin.”

“No problem. It looks like the tea woke you up.”

“I can’t recall the last time I was able to have tea,” Obi-Wan sighed happily.

Anakin was biting his lip, apparently trying to hide a smile, then spoke once more. “I noticed that Master Qui-Gon rarely eats or sleeps. Was he like that when you were a Padawan?”

Obi-Wan nodded, hoping that that answer would suffice but sighed when the younger Jedi just kept looking at him. “Yes, but that’s because he’s a plant. All he requires is sunlight and fresh air.” He brought his cup to his lips to hide his smirk as Anakin blinked.

“Wait, what?”

“He’s not actually a plant, Anakin,” Obi-Wan set his tea down with a sigh. Honestly, was the Chosen One really that gullible? “He’s so attuned to the Living Force, it honestly seems as though he can survive on the bare minimum. There were a few times when I was a Padawan that I wondered if he remembered that I needed to eat.”

“Oh.” Anakin sank onto a nearby chair and leaned forward. “He always told me to make sure to tell him when I needed something.”

_Naturally. Wouldn’t want the Chosen One to waste away to nothing after not eating for a day,_ was Obi-Wan’s first thought, followed almost immediately by, _Anakin had been a slave and not used to having the freedom to ask for what he needed. I would have done the same, had I been the one to train Anakin._

“Speaking of food, are you hungry?” Anakin asked, bringing Obi-Wan from his thoughts. “If you have any food in your kitchen, I can make something.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You know how to cook?”

“The basics. Better than Master Qui-Gon, anyway.”

A laugh escaped before Obi-Wan could suppress it. “Yes, he was awful in the kitchen, even when I was a Padawan. But I’m afraid that I don’t have anything here. Ever since the war began, I haven’t kept anything in my kitchen.”

“Tell me what you want to eat, and I can pick it up from the refectory.”

While Obi-Wan wasn’t necessarily hungry, he realized that it would get Anakin out of his quarters for a short time, allowing him to regain control of his runaway thoughts and emotions. With that in mind, he sent Anakin off with a short list of foods that he liked then settled down to meditate.

A minute later, Obi-Wan knew that his control would be hard-won. Anakin’s Force presence lingered in the room, far stronger than it had any right to be for the short time he had been there. Obi-Wan groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Damn Qui-Gon and his insistence on training Anakin. Damn Anakin and his persistence.

But most of all, damn Obi-Wan himself for allowing this to affect him so much.


	5. Signals and Thoughts

> Here we go again, with your mixed signals and my second thoughts. - Unknown

Luckily for Obi-Wan, the night passed quickly. After he’d eaten, he’d retired to his bedroom and, surprisingly, slept the whole night through. He didn’t awaken until Anakin knocked on his door to remind him of the appointment he had in an hour. By the time Obi-Wan used the ‘fresher and took a shower, Anakin had breakfast on the table.

“I had a Padawan deliver it,” Anakin said almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Obi-Wan thanked him, they ate, and within an hour, he was back at the Healers, where Healer Che grudgingly admitted that Obi-Wan was doing better and could be on his own. Obi-Wan barely managed to keep his relief from showing, merely nodded gravely when the Healer cautioned him to take it easy. Light katas, no sparring, no heavy lifting for the next week, then she would assess him again. If she found out he was disobeying her orders, she reserved the right to drag him back and chain him to a bed. Obi-wan promised he would listen, turned down Anakin’s offer to be escorted back to his quarters, and made his escape.

The next week was spent convalescing, meditating, and avoiding Anakin, who had somehow gotten the impression that they were now best friends. Everywhere he turned, Anakin was there - the salles, the refectory, even Dex’s one afternoon. No matter what Obi-Wan did, he couldn’t escape the younger Knight, so after Healer Che released him from restrictions, he switched his schedule. He trained at odd times during the night, ate at odd times throughout the day, and remained holed up in his rooms the rest of the time.

Towards the end of the second week since he’d been allowed back in his quarters, the Council told him that he was being sent back out into the fray. He couldn’t help a sigh of relief. Maybe now he could get some rest. Who knew that avoiding one person could be so exhausting?

After the meeting, Obi-Wan went to the salles to get in one last spar, relieved to find that Anakin was nowhere around. He was discouraged, though, to discover that he was still over-compensating for the injuries on his right side despite having gained full mobility. He resigned himself to long practices once aboard his ship. He couldn’t afford to telegraph his movements because of a former injury.

After a short nap back in his quarters, which lasted longer than what Obi-Wan wanted, he woke, carefully stretching stiff muscles. “Last time I fall asleep on the couch,” he muttered to himself, though he knew it to likely be a lie. With the war, he’d grown accustomed to catching sleep wherever he possibly could. Cody had once found him leaning against the cargo bay wall, sound asleep on his feet. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep there, but some of the clones had been moving equipment around, and he’d stayed there to be out of their way. Apparently, he’d been more tired than he’d thought, and that incident had Cody worrying over him for the next few days, making sure that Obi-Wan got enough sleep.

Cody would be pleased, Obi-Wan thought, to see how much he was sleeping now despite the odd hours he was keeping, even though it irritated Obi-Wan to no end. Yes, Obi-Wan knew that sleep was necessary, but he could get by on five hours of sleep, four if he really had to. It was only because Obi-Wan felt responsible for keeping his men safe that he did try to sleep more often. A sleep deprived Jedi was of no help to anyone, and each life that he was unable to save merely motivated him to do more.

Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, remembering the men he had recently lost. He hated not being with his troops. After losses, they needed support and confidence to boost their morale, which Obi-Wan often provided. But now, he was stuck in the Temple. Glancing quickly at the chrono, he decided that he would make some tea then call Cody to check in.

He had just placed the kettle filled with water on the stove and turned it on when the door chimed. He frowned, wondering who it could it be and hoping that it wasn’t Anakin. There was only so much of the young Knight he could handle

“Master Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan breathed upon opening the door, hardly able to believe that Qui-Gon was standing there before him. “Come in.” He stepped aside to allow him to enter and waved a hand towards the couch. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon murmured, sitting on one end of the couch as Obi-Wan settled on the opposite side. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I have no pain at all.”

“And your arm?” Qui-Gon asked quietly.

Obi-Wan frowned and stared down at his right arm, flexing his fingers. “It will be better in time,” he said finally, though his tone was a bit short. He hated talking about his arm. All it did was remind him of his failures.

Qui-Gon knew this, of course, and said nothing more on the subject, though Obi-Wan wished that his former Master would see his insecurities and reassure him. In the very next second, Obi-Wan - Master, General, The Negotiator - realized how pathetic that truly was. He wasn’t some Padawan or Youngling that needed kind words and praise. His self-deprecation was interrupted by the kettle whistling.

“Oh,” he said, moving towards the kitchen, “I was making tea. Would you like some?”

“I will never turn down tea,” Qui-Gon said with a smile.

It didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to prepare the tea. His own tea he could finish with his eyes closed, but he was careful with Qui-Gon’s cup. He wanted it to be perfect. Eleven years of separation had not dulled the memory of preparing tea for the two of them after a long meditation. Obi-Wan allowed himself a small private smile as his finger traced the design on Qui-Gon’s cup. It reminded him of the man, flowering vines twisting delicately around strong sturdy trees.

He carried the teacups into the living room and handed one to Qui-Gon before taking his seat. He clutched his own cup tightly, unaware that he was holding his breath as he watched Qui-Gon lift the cup to his lips and drink.

“You still remember how I take my tea,” Qui-Gon said in surprise, taking another sip.

All of the air rushed out of Obi-Wan in a relieved _whoosh,_ and he sipped his tea to give himself time to recover. “As do you,” he replied softly. “Anakin told me that he commed you to see how I liked it.”

“When you live in each other’s pockets as we did for twelve years, it’s not difficult to learn the other’s likes and dislikes.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head, in deference to Qui-Gon’s observation but also to hide the flush creeping across his face. Force, but he knew what Qui-Gon liked. Qui-Gon liked to cover Obi-Wan’s body completely, liked to wrap the Padawan’s braid around his fingers to tug him in for a kiss, liked a firm grip on his cock except for the sensitive spot beneath the head where just a barely-there touch could almost make him come.

He cleared his throat and looked up in time to see a quiet smolder in Qui-Gon’s eyes before the older man glanced away, seemingly preoccupied with the few pictures that graced the shelves. Obi-Wan sat there, stunned, unsure if he actually saw that or if he was simply projecting his desires. He didn’t get the chance to further debate with himself because Qui-Gon gave a quiet chuckle and pointed to one of the pictures, reminiscing about when it was taken, and the two of them were off in the past, remembering the good times.

_I missed this,_ Obi-Wan wanted to say but could not bring himself to speak. What if Qui-Gon did not feel the same? Obi-Wan would be mortified, then, to know that he was clinging to an attachment that his former Master didn’t have.

And Force knew that Obi-Wan was attached, despite the space separating them and the years that had slipped by. All of his best intentions to rid himself of his feelings for Qui-Gon had failed spectacularly, as evidenced by the way he had reacted upon seeing Qui-Gon after he’d woken from his injuries and now, with the older Jedi so close to him and yet so far away.

Qui-Gon finished his tea and set the cup aside before turning to face Obi-Wan. His expression was serious, his fingers laced together, and Obi-Wan immediately straightened, recognizing the posture as one that Qui-Gon had when there was a serious conversation he needed to have.

“Obi-Wan, there is something I need to ask you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart rate sped up, and he leaned forward in anticipation. Was this it? Was this the moment when Qui-Gon would ask if he was still interested? “Anything,” he breathed.

Qui-Gon gave an amused chuckle. “I thought I taught you better than to agree before you know what is being asked of you.”

Flushing, Obi-Wan murmured, “If you’re the one asking, how bad can it be?”

The older Jedi smiled fondly. “Ah, the faith you still have in me.”

_Always,_ Obi-Wan wanted to say, _even after everything,_ but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“It’s about Anakin,” Qui-Gon began, and those few words were enough to make Obi-Wan’s heart plummet to his toes. “Ever since the victory on Naboo years ago, Chancellor Palpatine has made it no secret that he has taken a liking to Anakin. It worries me, as I can sense a deeper underlying reason for Palpatine befriending Anakin, though I am not sure why exactly. Perhaps he hopes that having a friend in the Jedi will allow him to have some sway with the Council. I limited Anakin’s correspondence with the Chancellor when he was younger, but now that he’s a Knight, he’s allowed to make his own decisions about whom to associate with. I have tried speaking to Anakin about this, but he believes my distrust is because Palpatine is a politician.”

Understanding dawned on Obi-Wan even as he forced his own feelings back to deal with them later. “You want me to _spy_ on Anakin,” he said in disbelief.

“Not spy exactly,” Qui-Gon shook his head. “Merely be there and listen to what he says. He may be more open with you than he is with me.”

“He hardly knows me.”

“That may be so, but you are his brother-Padawan. He feels a bond with you, and he does look up to you.”

That made Obi-Wan pause. Anakin, the _Chosen One_, had decided he was a good role model? How in the galaxy had that happened? They’d had limited interaction, not only because Obi-Wan was actively avoiding his former Master and new Padawan, but also because Obi-Wan had been a new Knight trying to establish himself in his new role. No, he couldn’t do this. There was no way Anakin, despite what Qui-Gon told him, would let his guard down enough to spill his secrets.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan looked up, his refusal to Qui-Gon’s request dying on his tongue as the older Jedi clasped their hands together and sent him a beseeching look.

“Please, Obi-Wan. I feel that Anakin’s fate is tied to this, and I trust you to be partial and help Anakin since I cannot.”

And as Obi-Wan looked closer, he could see that Qui-Gon was telling the truth. There was something deeply unsettling about the whole situation, and twelve years as Qui-Gon’s Padawan had taught him not to cast aside Qui-Gon’s intuition.

With a heavy sigh, he bowed his head, squeezing Qui-Gon’s hands. “Very well,” he acquiesced. “I will do my best to discover what possible motivation Palpatine has for this.”

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon murmured, smiling. He released Obi-Wan’s hands and stood, then hesitated before shaking his head slightly and stepping towards the door. “I heard that you are being sent back to the front lines.”

“Ah, yes.” Obi-Wan struggled to keep up with the switch in conversation, still trying to banish the feeling of Qui-Gon’s hands in his own. “Early tomorrow. The Healers have given me a clean bill of health, and I was told that I am needed.”

“Yes, you are.” The door to Obi-Wan’s quarters opened, and Qui-Gon glanced back with a soft smile, the one that Obi-Wan had seen after they’d agreed to become lovers. “Never doubt, Obi-Wan, that you _are_ needed, both here and elsewhere.” With that, he left, the door swooshing closed behind him.

Obi-Wan sat, replaying Qui-Gon’s parting words over and over. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. For as much as he was called the Negotiator, Qui-Gon could still talk circles around him and Obi-Wan was unable to fully parse out the meaning.

But there was no time to dissect what Qui-Gon could possibly have meant. He had to ready his things for his flight tomorrow and get some much needed rest, as he wouldn’t have another chance for uninterrupted sleep until the next time he was in the Temple.

_Qui-Gon,_ he thought as he headed towards his bedroom, _how is it that I have known you for over half of my life, and I still don’t know you at all?_


	6. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references Clone Wars season 2 episode 5 - Landing at Point Rain

>   
The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased; it can only be accepted. - Unknown  


Obi-Wan stifled a yawn, pressing a hand to his mouth and shaking his head as he palmed the control to his quarters. Once inside, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he had his report to prepare. The Council wanted to see him first thing in the morning, which was only five hours away.

_No sleep again for me tonight,_ he thought dully. _Some light meditation and caf will have to do._ He hoped that he would be able to sleep at some point during this short respite from the fight. Otherwise, he would be useless in the field. He honestly had no idea how Qui-Gon managed to function with the little sleep that he got.

_Qui-Gon._

With a groan, he buried his face in his hands as he recalled again what Qui-Gon had asked of him the last time they’d seen each other, nearly two months ago. How could Obi-Wan spy on Anakin? It wasn’t like the two of them were close friends. He could safely call Anakin an acquaintance, at the very least, but certainly not the kind who could get away with requesting details about Anakin’s personal life.

Then again, Anakin seemed to be the type of person who would voluntarily share information. If that was the case, then it would be easier than Obi-Wan originally thought. Whatever the situation was, it was highly unlikely that the two of them would be crossing paths very soon. There was a war raging on, and both of them were in high demand due to their successes. It made no sense for them to be placed on the same campaign. That fact would make it near impossible to keep his promise to Qui-Gon, but it was out of his hands. At least he could honestly tell Qui-Gon that he hadn’t been able to talk to Anakin yet.

Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan sat down at his desk and pushed all thoughts of Qui-Gon and Anakin away. He had more important things to worry about right now.

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

His report to the Council was well received, not that he’d had any doubts. He bowed, ready to terminate the connection and maybe get some sleep, when Mace called for him to wait, saying that the Council had new orders for him.

“We’re sending Skywalker to your location,” Mace said. “You’re to free Geonosis.”

“Geonosis?” Obi-Wan said in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. How many times are we going to liberate that planet? How many lives are we going to sacrifice? There are other planets that -”

“Master Kenobi!” Mace snapped, his hologram taking a step forward. “You are way out of line. You have your orders, and the Council expects you to obey them. Is that clear?”

Chagrined, Obi-wan bowed at the waist. “I apologize, Masters. It will be done.”

“Good. See that it is.” With that, the holograms winked out of existence.

Obi-Wan straightened, teeth gritted and fists clenched. “Force damn it all.” In a rare fit of temper, he used the Force to lift a chair, prepared to throw it, but stopped when someone cleared his throat behind him.

“General, Sir?”

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, held it in for a few beats before releasing it. The chair clattered to the floor, and the Jedi turned tired eyes to Cody. “My apologies, Cody,” he murmured heavily, realizing that this apology was more sincere than the one he’d given to the Council. “I am… just tired of needless death.”

Cody nodded sympathetically. “I understand completely, Sir. Shall I take inventory or our supplies and men?”

“Please do. General Skywalker should be here in a few hours, and then we can compare notes and strategize.”

“Sir!” Cody snapped to attention, saluted, and hurried off.

Obi-Wan stood there for a moment before righting the chair and sinking onto it with a tired groan. He braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands over his face. Force, but he hated Geonosis.

He clearly remembered his last visit to Geonosis. He’d followed Jango Fett there from Kamino after the attempted assassination of Padmé. With Quinlan Vos guarding the Senator, it had fallen to Obi-Wan to capture the would-be assassin, and Obi-Wan had narrowly avoided capture there, only to run into Dooku. He’d survived that encounter by sheer luck, Quinlan and Padmé arriving in time to whisk him away to safety. Even back then, Obi-Wan thought bitterly, he’d been unable to defeat Dooku. All he’d had to show for his efforts was a ‘saber wound through his left leg and a missing right arm.

Scowling, Obi-Wan rubbed the part of his arm that attached to his prosthetic. The chill of space always irritated his injury, and he was still working out the kinks from the fall he had taken a few months ago while fighting Dooku. Slowly, he pulled the glove off of his right hand, the shiny metal prosthetic taunting him. He felt revulsion and despair welling up inside of him.

He hadn’t been strong enough to stop Dooku the first or second time they’d fought. What was he doing as a Jedi and General? How could he protect his men if he couldn’t even protect himself? It was only a matter of time until he failed, more than he already had, and innocent lives were lost. He could only hope that when he did die, he took a whole battalion of Separatists and a Sith with him to make up for his failure.

Obi-Wan tugged on the glove harshly. He didn’t have time for these thoughts. He had a battle to plan.

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Three hours later, Obi-Wan and Cody were in the hangar, watching as Anakin and Rex departed from the small ship. Despite his misgivings, Obi-Wan figured that this was the galaxy’s way of telling him to get a move on his promise to Qui-Gon.

“Welcome aboard,” Obi-Wan said.

“Master Kenobi,” Anakin greeted him, grinning broadly.

“Please, call me Obi-Wan. We are brother-Padawans, after all.” He winked and was shocked to see a light flush spread across Anakin’s cheeks. Force, Qui-Gon was right! Anakin _did_ look up to him despite the few interactions they’d had over the years. Perhaps, he mused, Anakin felt more towards him than a bond between brother-Padawans.

Obi-Wan tilted his head, indicating for Anakin to follow him. Cody stayed behind for the time being, catching up with his brother. Obi-Wan didn’t mind, fully supportive of his men being allowed personal time. Not to mention one never knew when their time was up, and with the campaign on Geonosis looming in the near future, death might be sooner than one liked.

“Let’s see how long we can keep control of Geonosis before the Separatists win it back,” Obi-Wan murmured to himself.

“You really don’t like Geonosis.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop the derisive snort that escaped. “Whatever gave that away?” He asked dryly.

Anakin frowned. “Hey, you don’t have to bite my head off. I’m just making conversation.”

“I am sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, and Force, how many times was he going to have to apologize today? “Geonosis...does not hold pleasant memories for me.”

Anakin flicked his eyes to Obi-Wan’s right arm, and Obi-Wan squashed the urge to hide his arm behind his back. “I’m sure,” he said quietly, “but look at it this way. You fought against Dooku _twice,_ and each time, you lived to tell the tale.”

_Except I never wanted anyone to hear about it, lest they know that I was not strong enough to bring him down._ Obi-Wan didn’t reply to Anakin’s statement, merely smiled and gestured to the bridge. “Should we discuss our plans now?”

Anakin’s brow furrowed, and it looked like he was about to say something, but he just nodded. “Lead the way, Obi-Wan.”

Two hours, twenty-three scrapped ideas, the Council’s promise to send Plo Koon to help, and one fairly decent plan later found Obi-Wan in his room, gloves removed as he struggled to tighten one of the tiny screws buried beneath wires in his prosthetic. He was not dominantly left, so that made the task even more difficult, aside from the fact that it would be infinitely easier if he had two hands - one to hold the wires aside and the other to tighten the screw.

“Blast!” He swore, tempted to throw the small tool in his hand, but he refrained. The last thing he needed was someone to walk in, like Cody had done earlier when he’d nearly thrown a chair.

Heat rose in his cheeks, and he did drop the tool then, slumping in his seat and staring morosely at his prosthetic. He thought that he had gained control of his temper, that being one of the reasons that Qui-Gon had at first refused to take him as a Padawan, but lately, his training seemed to have failed him.

He sensed Anakin stop by his door, and his gaze jerked over, waiting to see if the young Knight would continue on his way or -

Obi-Wan bit back a groan as Anakin knocked on the door. “Enter,” he called out as he tried to contain the mess on his desk and picked up the tool again. His hand was shaking as Anakin came into the room. He could count on one hand how many people had seen his prosthetic, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten yet,” Anakin said as he held up a tray laden with a variety of food. “I thought that maybe we could eat together?”

Obi-Wan knew that he could refuse, but Qui-Gon’s request remained forefront in his mind. The corners of his lips tilted up, and he waved his only operable hand at the desk. “If you can find a place to set the tray, be my guest.”

Carefully, Anakin slid the tray onto the surface, then frowned as he glanced from Obi-Wan’s hand to the tools and various pieces on the desk. “Feel free to say no, but I can see what I can do for your arm,” Anakin said tentatively.

Obi-Wan almost said no, but one look at Anakin’s hopeful expression had him sighing and saying instead, “I suppose nothing can make it worse.”

Anakin rolled his sleeves up and sat down. Within a few minutes, there were tools and tiny pieces of Obi-Wan’s arm scattered around the table. Obi-Wan bit his tongue, wanting to tell Anakin to make sure that he didn’t lose anything, but he figured Anakin knew that already, so he forced himself to relax and focus on what Anakin was doing. Perhaps, he thought, he could learn a thing or two.

Anakin must have realized that Obi-Wan was intently watching since he began talking out loud and explaining the steps he was taking. Obi-Wan had to admit that Anakin certainly was knowledgeable about this subject, and after an hour, Obi-Wan’s arm was functioning even better than it had been before his fight with Dooku.

“Anakin, this is amazing,” Obi-Wan said in awe as he clenched his fingers to make a fist. “I actually feel like I can hold my ‘saber without fear of dropping it.”

Anakin ducked his head, and Obi-Wan was secretly amused at the blush that was spreading across the younger Jedi’s face.

“It’s no big deal,” he mumbled, though Obi-Wan thought he sounded pleased, and began putting away the tools. “I’ve just got a talent for it.”

“I greatly appreciate this.” Obi-Wan clasped Anakin’s shoulder and squeezed briefly. “I believe that if you hadn’t become a Jedi, you would have still made a name for yourself by making and repairing mechanical things.”

Anakin flashed him a grin. “You mean instead of being the Hero With No Fear, I would have been the Mechanic With No Fear?”

Obi-Wan let out a short laugh, surprising himself. He didn’t laugh much, not anymore. Not since Qui-Gon had abandoned him, and definitely not since the war had begun. “That moniker would still work. I doubt you’re afraid to try making or fixing anything.”

Anakin’s grin faded into a rueful smile, and he looked down. “Sometimes,” he said softly, “I’ve often thought about what I would be doing now if I’d stayed on Tatooine. If I would have been able to somehow save enough money to buy freedom for me and my mom on my own.”

“How is your mother?” Obi-Wan asked. He’d heard about how Qui-Gon had traveled back to Tatooine to purchase Shmi, only to discover that Watto had already freed her because he’d felt pity for her upon seeing how distraught she was after Anakin had left.

“I haven’t been able to reply to her last message from a few days ago, but she seems to be doing well,” Anakin replied. “She likes Mandalore. Her employers are definitely better than any of the ones she’s had before, and she was promoted to manager of the restaurant. I’m just glad that Duchess Satine agreed to let Mom stay there. She must really like you and Master Qui-Gon to accept an outsider.”

He was not blushing, Obi-Wan told himself, clearing his throat and busying himself with taking a drink. “She owes us her life. Jedi normally don’t collect on debts, but Qui-Gon has a tendency to not always follow the Code. He knew that it was important for you to know that your mother was safe, and he took steps to ensure her safety.”

“I would have had an even more difficult time adjusting to life at the Temple if I was worrying about her every day,” Anakin admitted.

“I’m glad everything worked out for you.” And here, Obi-Wan surprised himself and Anakin by reaching over with his flesh hand and squeezing Anakin’s forearm. They froze, both of their gazes locked on Obi-Wan’s hand until Obi-Wan hurriedly withdrew it, clearing his throat. Why the fuck had he done that? “It’s late, and we have plans to finalize in the morning. We should probably get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said slowly as he stood up. His eyes flicked to Obi-Wan’s, searching for something, before he gave a tentative smile. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”

“Same to you,” Obi-Wan replied, watching the younger Jedi leave with the tray of dirty dishes. He blew out a breath and slumped in his chair, staring at his hand. He didn’t touch people. He liked his personal space, so what in the galaxy had possessed him to touch Anakin? Why was his hand tingling from the limited amount of contact?

An even more important question - why did he want to touch Anakin again?

**\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The battle on Geonosis went about as well as Obi-Wan expected it would. That is to say, it was a complete disaster. Obi-Wan had lost track of everything except the blaster bolts fired by the Geonosians and droids. From the moment he set foot on the planet - or more accurately _crashed_ on the planet - his focus had narrowed to those around him who were protecting, defending, and destroying _for him._ He couldn’t do anything to help, too injured to even stand. In the end, Anakin had rescued him _again,_ and Obi-Wan was once again shipped off to Coruscant.

Luckily, Obi-Wan was back on full duty a week later, and he made his way back to his men, who had been following Anakin’s orders per the Council’s wishes. Once in command of his battalion, he and Anakin launched a strategic strike to drive the Separatists from Lannik.

It was three days of fighting in the cold and damp. It never stopped raining there, and visibility was often low due to the downpours that were nearly constant. Obi-Wan was continually drenched and miserable, and he found that he couldn’t decide if he would prefer Geonosis or Lannik.

The last day of fighting lasted almost ten hours, but search and rescue took two hours longer. Only after Obi-Wan made sure that all of his men were taken care of did he finally make his way to his own tent, collapsing on the cot only to groan upon realizing that he had not removed his boots or filthy robes.

“Force blast it all,” he grumbled, heaving himself to his feet before stripping off his clothing.

“Obi-Wan?”

The whisper was so soft that Obi-Wan almost missed it, even in the quiet of the night. Hesitating, he debated about pretending to be asleep, but something niggled at his mind. Anakin sounded disheartened, and his presence in the Force was subdued, as if heavy thoughts were weighing him down.

He hurriedly tugged on clean leggings and a tunic before pushing open the tent flap and offering Anakin a smile. “Come in, Anakin. Have a seat.” He waved a hand toward the desk chair then settled himself on the cot.

The younger Jedi buried his face in his hands, shoulders slumped, and Obi-Wan waited patiently and silently, allowing Anakin time to collect his thoughts.

“I hate this,” Anakin said finally, glancing up at Obi-Wan. The pained expression on his face made Obi-Wan’s heart ache, and without thinking, he leaned forward and rested a hand on Anakin’s knee, hopefully a source of comfort.

“I lost twenty-seven men today. I know that many people think of them as disposable, but they’re not to me,” Anakin continued, voice growing louder with each word. “They’re human beings, no matter how they were created. They have their own personalities, and they have names. They bleed. They die, and I can’t save them!”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured. What Anakin was speaking were thoughts that he himself continually had. “You save as many as you possibly can. That’s all you can do, and fight for the memory of those you lost. This is war, Anakin, and it’s not nice, not fair, but this is the hand we’ve been dealt. I have lost many men as well. I still remember their names, and every morning I say them aloud.” He flushed then, looking away. “It’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with the loss, but it always strengthens my resolve to do better. I’ve always strived to do better, to _be_ better.”

“To be perfect, you mean?”

Obi-Wan froze, wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat. _No,_ he wanted to say, _that’s ridiculous, no one can be perfect,_ but he knew that would be a lie. His whole entire life’s goal had been to be perfect. The perfect Initiate, perfect Padawan, perfect Knight, and now perfect Master and General.

Anakin grinned and shook his head. “Obi-Wan, trust me when I say that you were the perfect Padawan.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop a sharp bitter laugh from escaping. “Force, if I was such a perfect Padawan, then why was I tossed aside as soon as it was convenient for him?”

“I-” Anakin blinked then narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about, Obi-Wan?”

“You had to be trained, and no one else would have trained you, so naturally, Master Qui-Gon volunteered to be your Master.”

“But that… Obi-Wan, that was _years_ ago! Are you telling me that it still bothers you?”

_I need to get away,_ was Obi-Wan’s thought. _I’ve messed this all up. Anakin will tell all of his friends, and I’ll be a laughingstock now. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master and General, unable to come to terms with the fact that another was chosen over him._

“-bi-Wan. Obi-Wan!”

A hand on his arm startled Obi-Wan, and he jumped, not having realized until now that he had stood, fists clenched in a panic as he was swept away by his runaway emotions. He focused on Anakin’s calm presence, the hands on his shoulders, and soon became lost in the worried gaze of Anakin’s eyes - the same look he had seen after his fight with Dooku and again in the Temple.

“So that’s why,” Anakin began slowly, “you were avoiding me and Master Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold. “Why do you say that?”

“Other Knights that I’ve seen still have a friendly relationship with their former Master, but not you. I’m not stupid, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said. “I can tell that you do your best to avoid Master Qui-Gon _and_ me, but I’ve never been able to figure out why. Master Qui-Gon won’t tell me. He only says that I shouldn’t dwell on the past, but don’t you think that I deserve to know what I did to make you avoid me?”

Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk about. He’d buried it, or so he thought, but somehow it always surfaced to stalk him once more. He debated about dismissing Anakin, but if he wanted Anakin to be honest with him, then he would have to extend that same courtesy. “There is too much history between Qui-Gon and I for us to have a friendly relationship.”

“‘Too much history.’ Just what do you mean by that?”

“Qui-Gon and I - He -” Obi-Wan sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. “He rejected me as a Padawan several times before accepting me, for starters. Then after we met you, he expressed his interest in training you, which meant that my future hung in the balance. I had to wonder if he’d really even wanted me at any time.” He deliberately left out the part where he and Qui-Gon had been lovers. Some information was just too personal to share.

Silence reigned between them for a short time, and Obi-Wan crossed over to the tent flap and closed his eyes, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for Anakin to digest the new information. That wasn’t something he liked to think about, even though it had been eleven years. It still hurt like it had just happened yesterday, like if he closed his eyes, he would be standing before the Council, Qui-Gon at his side, as humiliation rushed through him.

“That really fucked you up, didn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Anakin already knew the answer, and he didn’t need Obi-Wan to confirm. “Look, Master Qui-Gon really does care about you. I mean, why else would he have gone racing to save you from Dooku all those months ago?”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a beat, wondering if this was a trick question. “Because the two of you were the closest to where I was.”

Anakin was already shaking his head before Obi-Wan had even finished speaking. “No, Obi-Wan. We were actually farther away than what Qui-Gon told the Council. I couldn’t tell at the time if Qui-Gon was so eager to go because of his former Master or because of you.” Shrewd blue eyes studied Obi-Wan, as though searching for the answer, but Obi-Wan let nothing show on his face.

He stared back, unflinching, even as his thoughts raced. Was it possible that Qui-Gon cared more than he let on? Then why continue hiding that fact? Obi-Wan understood the need for secrecy before when he was still a Padawan, but they were both Masters now. There was no need to keep their relationship in the shadows any longer.

But did they even have a relationship? Ever since Qui-Gon had expressed interest in training Anakin, the bond between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been damaged. The situation only worsened after Obi-Wan was Knighted, when he received his own solitary missions and their training bond was severed.

Though not all of the fault lay with Qui-Gon, he knew. Obi-Wan had pulled away, as well, shielding his thoughts, moving into his own rooms as quickly as possible, avoiding Qui-Gon. Perhaps, he mused sadly, this misunderstanding could have been avoided if they had only communicated. It was too late. What was done was done. There was no turning back time, no reliving the past. They could only move forward.


	7. Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points to relationship tags*

> Sorry that I lost our love  
Without a reason why  
Sorry that I lost our love  
It really hurts sometimes  
And I’m sorry, sorry  
What do you want  
What do you want me to say  
Sorry that I lost our love  
Until the end of time  
Meg Myers - Sorry

Standing in front of Qui-Gon’s quarters in the Temple, Obi-Wan tried to remember what he had been rehearsing ever since his talk with Anakin several tens ago, but now that the time had actually come, all of the words had fled his mind.

He snorted. _The Negotiator._ Whoever had come up with that moniker clearly had more faith in him than he did himself.

With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan knocked on the door before he lost his nerve. It wasn’t very long before Qui-Gon appeared in the doorway, looking surprised to see him there. It reminded Obi-Wan of when the roles had been reversed, when Qui-Gon had come to ask Obi-Wan to keep an eye on Anakin.

“May I come in?” Obi-Wan asked, nervousness thrumming through his veins, and he gave a weak smile.

“Of course.” Stepping aside to let Obi-Wan enter the room, Qui-Gon then palmed the control to shut the door before turning to face him. “Is everything okay? You seem anxious.”

“I’ve been talking to Anakin. He hasn’t mentioned his relationship with Palpatine yet, but there was something he said that caught my interest.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “You weren’t close to my location when you rescued me from Dooku.”

Qui-Gon was silent, and for a moment, Obi-Wan feared that his former Master would refuse to answer, although his silence was an answer in and of itself.

“You never said anything.” It came out more accusatory than Obi-Wan wished, and he winced, wishing that he could think of something to say to soften his words.

“It was obvious to me,” Qui-Gon said calmly but with a wry undertone, “that you wanted nothing to do with me. After all, you quickly moved to your own quarters and did your damned best to avoid me. What was I supposed to do with that? I believed, mistakenly it seems, that you would seek me out once you had time to process everything.”

“But I didn’t.” Obi-Wan said quietly, lowering his gaze in shame. He’d been so absorbed in his own hurt that he hadn’t bothered to think of Qui-Gon’s own feelings.

“No. I knew that I had severely damaged your trust and faith in me when I stupidly said that I would train Anakin. I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior, but the more time passed, the more I realized just what my actions had done to you. Your self-confidence was already low from before I took you as my Padawan, when I declined to train you. Then I became too focused on Anakin, and I lost you as both my Padawan and lover as a result.”

“Qui-Gon -” Obi-Wan began, but his former Master interrupted him.

“Let me continue, please. I should have apologized to you many years ago, but I could never bring myself to face you. As much as I wanted your forgiveness, I felt that I didn’t deserve it. I’d hurt you deeply, and no apology could ever make that right. I realize that I should have apologized anyway, but I could never find the words.”

“An ‘I’m sorry I tossed you aside for a newer Padawan’ would have sufficed,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“Oh, my Obi-Wan. I may have tossed you aside, but I never stopped loving you,” Qui-Gon whispered, cupping Obi-Wan’s cheek with his huge hand.

What Obi-Wan wouldn’t have given to have heard that years ago. He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth, muffling a sob. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” He burst out.

“Anakin,” was the reply, and Obi-Wan understood immediately.

“Anakin told you that he had feelings for me, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. Obi-Wan knew the answer - knew Qui-Gon enough to figure out what his former Master had done. “And you decided to be the bigger man and hide your own feelings for me.”

“I didn’t want him to -”

“And what about what _I_ wanted?” Obi-Wan yelled, voice tight with anger, fists clenched. “What if I had still wanted you? Did that even cross your mind? You figured you would make the decision for me instead?”

“You closed yourself off from me!” Qui-Gon yelled back. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, remember?”

“You arrogant, pigheaded, self-righteous _bastard,_” Obi-Wan snarled as he stalked closer to Qui-Gon, jabbing a finger into his chest. “_You_ were the one who closed himself off first! You were the Master. I tried to make peace with you on Naboo, and all I got in return was a statement designed to placate me. No apology. _Nothing._ So don’t go placing all of the blame on me, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re talking in circles, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Swallowing thickly, Obi-Wan allowed his arm to drop to his side. “Perhaps I was correct in telling Anakin that there’s too much history between us.”

“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon looked stricken as he grasped Obi-Wan’s shoulders like a drowning man clutches a life preserver. “Please don’t say that. We can -”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan interrupted. A lump clogged his throat, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught of tears. Force, how long had he dreamed of this, of being with Qui-Gon, and now that they had the opportunity without Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship in the way, Obi-Wan was turning him away. He heard movement as Qui-Gon shifted away. Every single cell in his body was screaming for him to take it back, to grab Qui-Gon and never let go.

But he couldn’t. There was too much pain between them, too much history, and Obi-Wan didn’t know how they would move past it.

“I can’t continue this way, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan whispered, “You pull away whenever we seem to be getting closer, and I don’t know if it’s because of something I’ve done or haven’t done. I just -”

He was interrupted by Qui-Gon pressing two fingers against his lips. “Hush,” he said softly. “I understand, Obi-Wan. I wish I could give you assurance, but perhaps you are correct.” He took a breath, closing his eyes before opening them. His gaze was warm, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to snatch back what he had said, but it was too late.

The words were in the open. Their fate was decided. Obi-Wan wasn’t even aware that he was crying until Qui-Gon carefully brushed his fingertips against his cheek.

“I am sorry,” said Qui-Gon heavily. “If circumstances were different…”

And that was the kicker. Once again, Qui-Gon had tossed Obi-Wan aside, thinking only of Anakin. Now, even though it had been Obi-Wan who had said that they weren’t working, it hurt. He didn’t want to part from Qui-Gon, but he knew that each moment that passed would only make it harder to walk away. And yet…

“Once more,” Obi-Wan breathed, swaying into Qui-Gon’s space. “Let me have you once more, and then I’ll let you go.”

“Are you sure?” Qui-Gon asked softly, eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s eyes and his lips.

Obi-Wan barked out a harsh laugh. “You’ve denied me what could have been, Qui-Gon. Don’t deny me this.”

Qui-Gon merely nodded and leaned down, arms wrapping tightly around Obi-Wan’s waist as he kissed him.

Having sex with Qui-Gon now was different than it had been as a Padawan. There were the physical differences. Obi-Wan now had a beard, his shoulders were broader, and he had more scars. Qui-Gon was older and had more gray hair, though his body still remained in excellent shape.

What Obi-Wan found most interesting was the fact that he didn’t instinctively follow Qui-Gon’s every move. As a Padawan, it had been ingrained in him to obey Qui-Gon’s lead, and reflecting back, he could tell that it had carried over into the bedroom. Not that Qui-Gon had ever forced him into anything sexual, but Obi-Wan had been willing to take a more submissive role.

That wasn’t the case now. Obi-Wan gave as good as he got. He’d learned what he liked with the few lovers he’d had after Qui-Gon, and now that he knew this was definitely the last time with Qui-Gon, he wasn’t satisfied with being guided. So when Qui-Gon covered Obi-Wan with his body after they’d undressed, save for the glove on Obi-Wan’s prosthetic arm, Obi-Wan hooked his leg across Qui-Gon’s thighs and rolled them over.

The heat in Qui-Gon’s eyes let Obi-Wan know that the move, while surprising, was not unwelcome. Time seemed to slow and blur as Obi-Wan prepared himself, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood when one of Qui-Gon’s fingers joined his own. Obi-Wan nearly collapsed from the pleasure, managing to hold himself up by using his right hand on Qui-Gon’s chest to steady himself.

The contrast of his gloved hand against Qui-Gon’s pale chest sobered Obi-Wan, and he would have snatched his hand away except for the fact that Qui-Gon caught it, bringing the hand to his lips. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, just watching as Qui-Gon slowly removed the glove using his teeth.

This was becoming far too tender for Obi-Wan’s liking, so he abruptly pulled his hand away, removed his fingers from inside of him, and took hold of Qui-Gon’s cock. He said nothing, merely locked gazes with the older man, as he slowly slid down, moaning quietly at the stretch.

From there, it was all instinct, pressure building inside of his groin, and Obi-Wan tossed his head back when Qui-Gon began to stroke his cock. He lasted another minute before he was spilling over Qui-Gon’s hand, his inner muscles clenching around the cock inside of him, and then wet warmth spurted inside of him.

They remained in that position, catching their breaths, before Qui-Gon carefully eased Obi-Wan onto his side, both of them hissing as Qui-Gon’s cock slid from Obi-Wan’s body. Qui-Gon stood and padded to the fresher, retrieved a damp cloth, and came back to the bed to clean up their mess.

Neither of them said anything as Obi-Wan gathered his clothes and quickly dressed, averting his gaze the whole time. Obi-Wan smoothed his hair back into position as best as he could before walking out of the bedroom to the door. He paused there, sensing Qui-Gon’s eyes on him, but when the older man remained silent, Obi-Wan scoffed quietly and jabbed the button to open the door.

He didn’t look back.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Obi-Wan had no idea how long he sat in a booth at Dex’s, shoulders hunched as he swallowed drink after drink. Dex had taken one look at him when he’d sat down and silently disappeared, only to return with a bottle of his best alcohol. Obi-Wan had been too numb to do anything more than nod in thanks.

He could hear the buzz of conversation grow dimmer as time wore on, but he didn’t move. At one point, he heard Dex say his name, but he was beyond caring. Words filtered through the drunken haze surrounding him - _didn’t know who else to call,_ and _it’s fine, is his tab settled?_ That was followed by an arm gripping his shoulder and gently pulling him to a standing position.

Vaguely, Obi-Wan realized that he should make sure he wasn’t being abducted, though he didn’t know of any kidnappers who would pay their target’s tab. He tilted his head back - a bad idea, he found - and squinted.

Anakin.

“Why’re you all so Sith-damn tall?” He slurred.

“Maybe you’re just Sith-damn short,” Anakin replied, to which Obi-Wan nodded sagely before groaning and closing his eyes.

“I’d like to stay here and not move.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, Dex has to close up now.” Anakin began to carefully lead him from the diner, tossing a _thanks_ back at Dex. “As it is, he stayed open an hour past closing time for you.”

“Such a good friend,” Obi-Wan murmured, and he nearly tripped as Anakin helped him into a speeder. “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

Panic gripped Obi-Wan, and he bolted upright, grabbing Anakin by the arm. “No! Not the Temple. I can’t - I can’t go back there like this.”

“I don’t know where else to go,” Anakin said, bewildered.

“Anywhere but there. Please.” And damn, Obi-Wan must have really drunk a lot if he was basically resorting to begging.

A pause, and then the younger man replied, “Okay, okay. I think I know somewhere we can stay for the night.”

Obi-Wan must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Anakin was shaking him awake and the Senators’ apartments loomed overhead. “Force, Anakin,” he said with dismay, “this isn’t appropriate at all. This will be all over the HoloNet by morning.”

Anakin laughed. “Padmé isn’t even here right now. She’s on Naboo. Besides, she gave me permission to use her apartment whenever I need to. It’s not like that,” he hastened to explain when Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “She’s a friend, nothing more. We are Jedi, after all. No attachments, right?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Right.” He stumbled into Anakin as he exited the speeder, nearly toppling them both over.

“Hey, easy there.” Once Anakin steadied him, he led Obi-Wan into Padmé’s apartment and over to the couch. “I’m going to get you some water. I’ll be right back.”

With bleary eyes, Obi-Wan watched him leave before relaxing on the couch, his body sinking into the plush cushions. He was exhausted - physically, mentally, emotionally - and still drunk as hell. That had been his end goal, to be quite honest, but he could do without the double vision and nausea. Anakin’s fast and reckless piloting hadn’t helped matters, either. He’d close his eyes just for a moment, he decided, just enough for the room to stop spinning.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cool fingers brushing against his cheek.

Whispered words.

“Here, drink some of this. You need to stay hydrated. You can’t die yet. I still need you.”

Strong hands helping him drink.

He looked up through tear filled eyes.

“‘M sorry,” he whispered.

Then blackness once more.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Obi-Wan awoke slowly, eyelids flickering as he registered the bright sunlight shining in through the open window. He groaned and flopped an arm over his eyes. It was too bright, he felt nauseated, and he swore a bantha crawled into his mouth and died while he was sleeping.

Cautiously, he shifted to a sitting position and noticed a glass of water on the end table, and memories came flooding back. Had he dreamed someone helping him drink, a faded memory of when he’d been violently ill as a Padawan on a distant planet, Qui-Gon his only source of help? Or had it been real?

Obi-Wan shrugged, immediately regretting the motion, and reached for the glass. It didn’t matter.

Once he’d drained the water, he set the glass aside and looked around. He was still in Padmé’s living room, though his boots and belt had somehow been removed. Anakin, he realized, and he groaned, running a hand over his face. Maybe he could sneak out of here before Anakin came to see if he was still alive.

That hope was shattered when Anakin walked into the room and smiled. “Hey, look who decided to wake up. How do you feel?”

“Not bad, considering,” Obi-Wan admitted, embarrassed that the younger man had seen him at one of his lowest points.

“Good.” Anakin sank onto the chair across from Obi-Wan and scrutinized him, brow furrowed. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but whatever happened last night that made you drink must have been something serious.”

“Haven’t you ever just wanted to forget life for a few hours?” Obi-Wan asked softly, staring at his folded hands.

“I guess, but that doesn’t explain why you didn’t want to go back to the Temple, unless it has something to do with your obsession with being perfect?”

That wasn’t exactly the whole truth, but Obi-Wan decided it would be best for Anakin to believe that. “A Jedi Master returning to the Temple completely drunk would have caused quite a stir. Thank you for coming to get me.” He frowned. “Just how did you know where I was?”

“Dex commed Master Qui-Gon, who asked me to bring you back.” Anakin shrugged. “He said something about being busy.”

“Oh.” That admission stung, and Obi-Wan blinked rapidly to keep back the tears that had formed. Qui-Gon wanted nothing to do with him. “Well, I - Thank you,” he said again, then cast about for a different topic. “If my memory serves me correctly, you said that Senator Amidala gave you permission to use her apartments. How did that happen?”

Anakin smiled ruefully. “It was hard for me when I first came to Coruscant. I was a nine year old former slave who left his mom behind to live on a new planet. The culture here is a lot different than on Tattooine. It took days for Qui-Gon to convince me that Coruscant had enough water for me to bathe every day. I was years behind in my studies from where a kid my age should have been. I didn’t know how to read Basic or how to swim. I had trouble making friends because my agemates had all formed their friend groups years before I arrived. Not to mention, I knew a lot about life outside of the Temple. They were intimidated by me, I think, and they picked up on the other masters’ trepidation about me becoming a Jedi. I ran away from the Temple a week after my tenth birthday. Master Qui-Gon found me at Padmé’s quarters for the queen, and she offered to let me stay there when I needed some time to just be me. The offer remained when she became Senator.”

Obi-Wan had been quiet up until now. Guilt was beginning to fester inside of him. If he hadn’t been so stubborn and determined to avoid Qui-Gon and Anakin, he could have helped to make Anakin’s transition a bit easier - a friendly smile, teaching him how to spar, a confidante if he needed one.

“I didn’t realize you were having such a difficult time adjusting,” Obi-Wan murmured. “How are you doing now?

Anakin shrugged. “I’m the Chosen One. I have all this pressure on me. Everyone is depending on me, and I don’t know if I can live up to their expectations. I’m terrified that I’m going to let them down. That’s the worst thing of all.”

“Have you talked to anyone else aside from me about this?”

“Only the Chancellor. He’s been incredibly helpful and supportive since I came to Coruscant. He’s like a mentor to me.”

Obi-Wan could hardly believe that Anakin was truly opening up to him, but he knew that he had to tread carefully so Anakin continued to confide in him. “I’m glad that you have someone to talk to, but it’s been my experience that someone who is not a Jedi has a difficult time relating to our lives. That’s not to say that sometimes they don’t have good opinions,” he hurried to say when a frown began to darken Anakin’s face, “but you must remember that you are a Jedi. Any advice you receive, no matter who gave it to you, must be compared with the Jedi Code and weighed accordingly.”

“So you’re not telling me to stop talking to Palpatine,” Anakin said slowly, “just that I need to be careful with what he says.”

“Yes. I’m sure that you don’t want to hear this, but most politicians have a hidden agenda in what they say and do.” Here Obi-Wan clasped Anakin’s shoulder, smiling gently. “I realize that we had a rough start, but I hope you know that my door is always open to you.”

“Now that I know you avoided me because Master Qui-Gon hurt you when he chose me, I think I can forgive and move past that.” Anakin covered Obi-Wan’s hand with his own. “I really admire you, Obi-Wan. From all the stories I heard, I think you’re a great Jedi. I’m honored to be your brother-Padawan.”

Obi-Wan swallowed past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. “Thank you, Anakin. That means a great deal to me to hear you say that.”

“Any time, Obi-Wan.” He looked up, smiling, and the older Jedi’s breath caught.

_I must still be drunk,_ Obi-Wan thought dazedly, _because there can be no other explanation as to why I’m wondering what he tastes like when he kisses._

Anakin leaned closer, and Obi-Wan remained frozen, eyes wide and heart pounding, breath caught in his throat. He was torn between pulling back or meeting Anakin halfway. In the end, he was saved by his comm beeping. He caught a glimpse of irritation in Anakin’s eyes as he turned his attention to his comm.

“Kenobi,” he said.

“Master Kenobi,” Mace greeted him.

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan said, immediately on edge. Had gossip about two Jedi spending the night in a Senator’s apartments reached the Council already? He straightened his tunic, wrinkled from having slept in it, even though Mace couldn’t see it.

“You’re needed immediately at the Temple. The Council wishes to speak with you.”

“Of course. I’ll be there momentarily.” Once the call ended, Obi-Wan stood there, bewildered, until Anakin began pushing him towards the door.

“The Council said immediately, Obi-Wan,” he said, clearly amused. “I think it’s best not to keep them waiting.”

“Right, yes.” But still Obi-Wan hesitated, biting his lip. “Anakin, I think -” He was startled into silence by Anakin brushing their lips together.

“Council first, then we’ll talk,” Anakin promised, eyes dark.

Obi-Wan’s mouth went dry, and he nodded, unable to speak, and followed Anakin to the speeder. He would deal with the Council first, then he needed to meditate.


	8. Addicted

> I'm addicted to the way I feel when I'm thinking about you. - Unknown

By the time evening rolled around, everyone in the Temple had heard the news. Obi-Wan couldn’t go anywhere without someone stopping him to congratulate him. 

Obi-Wan became flustered and soon escaped to a corner of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, sitting in a meditating pose. He hoped that the novelty would wear off soon. Otherwise, he’d never get any peace.

“Hiding from your job already, Councilmember Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at Anakin’s teasing tone. “I’m not hiding. I’m simply biding my time until this is old news.”

Anakin plopped onto the ground and leaned back on his hands. “This is big news, Obi-Wan. First, you’re made a Master without training a Padawan, and now you’re the youngest to be chosen to sit on the Council. That’s amazing.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. “We’re at war, Anakin. Our numbers are dwindling, so there are fewer Jedi to choose from. Certainly I wasn’t their first choice.”

Growling, Anakin flung himself over to straddle Obi-Wan’s legs, startling the older man. “No. Enough. Stop belittling yourself. You’re an amazing Jedi, Obi-Wan, and that’s what the Council sees. You are strong and selfless, and you give so much of yourself without expecting anything in return. You fight hard for what you believe in. You risk your own life to save your men and innocent people. So don’t you dare say that there is anyone more qualified for a Council seat.”

Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He felt Anakin rest their foreheads together, and he panicked before realizing that they were alone. “Anakin,” he murmured, “thank you for the kind words.”

Anakin scoffed. “You don’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan explained, “but you have to admit that you are...biased.”

“‘Biased,’” Anakin repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Obi-Wan flushed. “Yes, _biased_. Not only because you’re my brother-Padawan, but also because… Because…” He found that he couldn’t say the words, and gave a frustrated growl.

“You mean because of this,” Anakin murmured softly, tilting his head and pressing their lips together, his hands cupping Obi-Wan’s face.

Sighing into the kiss, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist and pulled him closer. He ran his tongue across the seam of Anakin’s lips, groaning when his tongue slipped inside. They broke apart a moment later, cheeks flushed, and Obi-Wan’s gaze drifted to Anakin’s lips.

“We can’t do this, Anakin.” Obi-Wan gently pushed at Anakin’s shoulders, and Anakin took the hint and rolled off of him. “We’re Jedi. I’m on the Council now. I just don’t see how -”

“I’m not asking for a commitment, Obi-Wan,” Anakin assured him. “But I am curious to see where this will take us. Aren’t you? What are you afraid of?”

Rejection, Obi-Wan didn’t say, and he looked away. He didn’t think the timing was right, especially since he and Qui-Gon had just fucked for the last time the night before, and he still didn’t feel like they had a clean break. He felt jagged, raw, exposed, and he was beginning to think he’d made a terrible mistake in rejecting Qui-Gon. He still -

“Obi-Wan, please,” Anakin interrupted his thoughts. “Just give us a try. Let me show you how good it can be.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan found himself saying.

“I promise you won’t -” Anakin stopped and blinked. “Wait. ‘Okay’?”

“You can be very persuasive when you want to be.”

Anakin grinned widely. “Does that mean I can start calling myself the _Negotiator_?”

“Please, take it,” Obi-Wan said wryly. “I don’t want it.”

“Why not? You earned it. You should be proud of it.”

“Anakin, I only earned it because we’re in a war, and the entire Galaxy knows my name.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’d rather still be an unknown Jedi than have the Galaxy be at war and know who I am.”

“Hey,” Anakin said softly, resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek, “the war can’t last forever. It will be over before you know it, and life will be back to normal.”

“How can you be so optimistic?” Obi-Wan whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Anakin’s hand.

“When you’re a slave, sometimes the only way you get through the day is by telling yourself that what you want is going to happen,” he replied simply. “Otherwise, you lose hope, and then you lose the will to live. I saw it happen to countless slaves.”

Obi-Wan’s heart broke, and he impulsively wrapped his arms around Anakin and rested their foreheads together. “I’m sorry you had to live through that.”

“It all worked out for the best. I did, after all, get to meet the best Jedi Padawan that ever lived.”

“Oh, for the love of -” Obi-Wan flushed and pushed Anakin away, who was laughing so hard that he fell over. “Come now, Knight Skywalker. On your feet. Let’s go to the salle so I can wipe the mat with you in punishment for your insolence.”

“Why do you think you’ll be the one winning?” Anakin leaped to his feet. “You’re an old Council member now.”

“Don’t let Master Yoda hear you say that,” Obi-Wan cautioned, smirking. “Otherwise, he’ll be the one chasing you around the salle.”

Anakin waved a hand, seemingly unconcerned. “I can take him, too.”

“Care to bet on that?”

“Councilmember Kenobi, are you allowed to bet?” Anakin gave a scandalized gasp.

“If I win, I ask a request of you within reason. If it’s something that you can argue against, I’ll choose a different request. Vice versa if you win.” Obi-Wan held out his hand but was startled when Anakin simply tugged on the hand to pull him in closer.

“I’ll take that bet,” Anakin whispered and sealed the deal with a kiss.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Obi-Wan, as he expected, won the bet. His request was simple - that Anakin not show physical affection to Obi-Wan outside of their private quarters. Anakin hadn’t liked the idea at first, but once Obi-Wan had explained that it wasn’t because he was ashamed of their fledgling relationship, Anakin agreed.

While around others, they were the epitome of professionalism, but when they were alone, they were always touching. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched so often, whether chaste or intimate. Anakin liked to have Obi-Wan pressed against his side when they were sitting on the couch, and Obi-Wan had to admit that it didn’t bother him.

Any spare time that they had, whether on the same or different planets, they spent with each other. Anakin made Obi-Wan feel appreciated, wanted, and he soaked up the sentiments like a sponge. At times it terrified Obi-Wan just how quickly Anakin had sneaked under his defenses, but when he expressed those concerns to Anakin, the younger Jedi would say something to allay those fears, and his racing thoughts were put to rest.

At least until the next time he was alone.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five months after Obi-Wan had accepted the Council seat, he and the 212th were sent to Felucia, and so began another long campaign. He found himself distracted by thoughts of Anakin, which bothered him. He’d never been this distracted when he’d been with Qui-Gon, not even after they’d dissolved their relationship years ago. What was it about Anakin that made him feel this way?

He assumed it was because he had stronger feelings for Anakin than he did with Qui-Gon, but that didn’t make the feelings of guilt disappear. He had a war to fight, men to command, innocents to protect. He couldn’t do that if he was unable to stop daydreaming about Anakin.

Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, resolving to meditate further about this. Right now, he had to check the map, plan for the next attack. Tonight he would carefully meditate to find out where these feelings originated.

“Sir,” Cody called out, “Count Dooku is approaching from the west.”

“Excuse me?” Hurriedly, Obi-Wan darted to where Cody was standing, stumbling to a stop when he noticed the Sith standing a few hundred meters away. “He doesn’t have his ‘saber ignited, and he’s alone.”

“What could he possibly want?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Cody. Tell the men to stand down, but be ready for anything. I’ll go see what he wants.”

“You do realize this is probably a trap,” Cody reminded him.

Obi-Wan grinned. “Of course I do, so now I have to spring the trap. If you see me holding my ‘saber, ready the heavy artillery. If I ignite it, you know what to do.”

“Rain hell down on them,” Cody grinned back.

“Have you been spending time with Anakin?” Obi-Wan teased as he began heading towards Dooku. He heard Cody mumble something under his breath before the Commander turned to give orders to the men.

Obi-Wan turned his attention to Dooku. He was curious as to what Dooku wanted. He wasn’t keen on fighting him for a third time, but something told him that things would end differently this time.

“Dooku, what a pleasant surprise,” Obi-Wan said. “I hope I don’t offend you if I stand further away from you. The last few meetings we’ve had didn’t end well for me.”

“I’m not here to fight. I have information,” the Count said.

Obi-Wan blinked, immediately cautious. “What kind of information?”

“About the Sith Lord.”

“‘The Sith Lord’?” Obi-Wan repeated, straightening.

Dooku gave a long-suffering sigh. “Do try not to repeat everything I say, Kenobi.”

“I beg your pardon,” Obi-Wan said wryly, “but I am confused as to why you’re here talking to me about the Sith Lord.”

“Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to listen,” Dooku hissed.

“Please explain why I should listen, since you’re a Sith and on the opposite side of the war,” Obi-Wan countered. “Why would _you_ want to help me?”

An explosion rocked the ground before Dooku could give an answer, and Obi-Wan spun around to the sight of clones, earth, and weapons flying into the air. He gave a cry of anguish, feeling each life slip away, and whirled back to face Dooku, igniting his ‘saber as he smoothly slid into a defensive position.

“This was all a trick,” he spat, and behind him he could hear Cody shouting orders, having seen Obi-Wan’s signal.

“Why don’t you think for once in your life?” Dooku snapped. “What would I have to gain by coming here alone and then attacking? You know that I don’t need the element of surprise to defeat you.”

“Then why are your droids attacking now?” Obi-Wan and Dooku began carefully circling each other, studying for an opening they could use to their advantage.

“I don’t know for certain,” Dooku snapped, “although I have an inkling as to who is behind this.”

“You mean aside from you?” Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his ‘saber. He couldn’t let Dooku slip away again, not for a third time. This would be the last encounter he and Dooku would have, even if it meant that Obi-Wan died taking him down.

“If you would simply stop your prattling, then I could tell you,” Dooku spoke through gritted teeth, obviously irritated.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply when Dooku glanced over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, looking surprised. Obi-Wan was about to turn when he was hit with something. A Force blast, he thought dazedly, _but Dooku is in front of me. Who is attacking me from behind?_

He never found out. The blast knocked him forward, and he fell, striking his head on the sharp edge of a rock. The last thought he had was that he had failed once more.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“-Wan. Obi-Wan, please, open your eyes!”

Obi-Wan groaned. There was someone shouting in his ear, and it was too loud. His head was pounding, and he felt foggy. Right. Dooku. The attack. He hit his head, and now someone was trying to get him to wake up.

Wait. He was alive?

Squinting, Obi-Wan could make out Anakin’s worried face, and his eyes flew open as he gasped, rising to a sitting position. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, “what are you doing here?”

“Hey, take it easy.” Anakin carefully took hold of Obi-Wan’s shoulders, peering at him. “You got a pretty nasty gash on your head.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan raised a hand and gingerly touched his temple, finding that there was already a bacta patch applied. “Thank you. I - I’m not sure what happened. Someone Force pushed me.”

Anakin frowned. “Are you sure? When I got here, you were already unconscious, and Dooku was the only other Force user here. It was probably just an explosion that knocked you out.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to frown. He distinctly remembered someone’s Force presence, and he’d been Force pushed enough times to know how it felt. “No, Anakin. There was someone else here, I know it.”

“Obi-Wan, listen to me.” Anakin cupped Obi-Wan’s face in his hands. “You’re confused. You hit your head hard, so it’s not surprising that you’re getting things mixed up. Remember the other times you’ve fought Dooku? He Force pushed you then. You’re getting everything all jumbled together.”

Obi-Wan stared blankly at Anakin, doubt creeping into his mind. He trusted Anakin, and his head hurt something awful. He likely had a concussion, so his memory wasn’t reliable. “I could have sworn…” He trailed off, then admitted quietly, “You’re right. I had been thinking about my previous duels with Dooku, and how I couldn’t let him get away again. Which I did.”

Smiling, Anakin pointed a few feet away, and Obi-Wan slowly turned his head in that direction. There lay Dooku, head separated from his body, eyes open in shock. He appeared to be staring straight at Obi-Wan, and he swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling sick. He hadn’t listened to Dooku. What if the former Jedi had been willing to tell Obi-Wan vital information that could have helped the Republic? He’d mentioned the Sith Lord, but Obi-Wan had no way of knowing if Dooku would have told him the truth or simply led him on a wild bantha chase. But there was no use dwelling on it now. Dooku was dead, and that just left the Sith Lord to hunt down and find.

Obi-Wan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He would have to tell the Council that Dooku was dead. And Qui-Gon… How would he react to the news of his former Master’s death? Hopefully Mace or Yoda would be willing to tell Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan didn’t think he would be able to look at Qui-Gon and tell him.

Speaking of Mace and Yoda…

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. “Did the Council send you because they knew Dooku was here?”

“No. The Chancellor heard that Dooku was heading here, and he knew that the Council would take forever in deciding who to send. He asked me to come as a favor.” Anakin knelt in front of Obi-Wan and cupped his face in his hands. “Plus he knows how I feel about you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart stopped. “You told the Chancellor about us? Anakin, I… I’m not sure I feel comfortable with other people knowing. Word could get back to the Council and -”

“Fuck the Council,” Anakin muttered.

A helpless grin crossed Obi-Wan’s lips despite himself. “Anakin, I’m on the Council.”

Anakin grinned wickedly in response. “Well, at least I’m fucking someone on the Council, then.”

“You are awful,” Obi-Wan hissed, but his eyes were sparkling, cheeks flushed as he playfully shoved at Anakin. He sobered then as he glanced around at the destruction, and he gave a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I need to help search for survivors.”

“I’ll help,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan smiled gratefully, reaching out to squeeze his hand before heading off to find Cody, Anakin right by his side.


End file.
